


Loos'd Of Limits and Imaginary Lines

by biextroverts



Series: The Bisexual Clara Memorial Project [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Hitchhiking, Pre-Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:51:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biextroverts/pseuds/biextroverts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara Oswald and River Song pick up a hitchhiker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loos'd Of Limits and Imaginary Lines

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a cute, G-rated Clara/Jenny fic. I don't know what happened.
> 
> Title is from 'Song of the Open Road' by Walt Whitman.

           Clara is immensely grateful to be warm. Ahead of, behind, and all around the beat-up blue Prius in whose passenger seat she sits, the snow falls steadily from the pitch black night sky. The light of the full moon casts an eerie shine on the white blanket that already covers the fields to either side of the road, but inside the car, she is safe and cozy and dry, sitting back and staring out the window at the desolate landscape around her.

           “Penny for your thoughts?” River asks. She casts a fond glance on Clara before turning her attention back to the – mercifully salted – road.

           Clara shrugs. “Don't waste your money, River,” she warns the older woman.

           “I hardly have any to waste, love.”

           “Fair enough, I suppose.” Clara pauses, running her tongue over her teeth as she considers how to answer River's question. “Not much. Glad not to be outside, mostly.” She presses a hand, palm out, to the window, and rubs away the condensation there. “It looks bloody awful.”

           “Driving conditions could be worse,” River points out.

           “Yeah.” Clara stares out into the distance – on this flat, treeless stretch of road, you can see out to the horizon in all directions. A few hundred meters down the road, she sees a speck, an aberration on the flawless landscape. She frowns at it, vaguely displeased with the incongruity, until closer inspection and increasing nearness reveal more details to her eye. A tiny blonde woman in only jeans and a light jacket stands shivering at the side of the road, thumb out. They are drawing level with her.

           “Stop the car!” Clara shouts.

           The shrill sound of tires against pavement fills her ears for a moment as the car screeches to a halt. On the side of the road, the blonde perks up and rushes over to them, knocking on Clara's window. When she exhales, it fogs up, and she rubs at it with the sleeve of her jacket.

           “Friend of yours?” River asks, raising an eyebrow.

           Clara shakes her head. “Never met her. She looks freezing, though, poor thing.” Outside, the blonde wraps her arms around her small torso. Her teeth are, indeed, chattering, even through her wide smile. Clara turns back to address River. “Least we can do is give her a bit of a ride.”

           River snorts. “You and your strays,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You're just like my ex-husband.” She fixes Clara with a slightly accusatory look, and Clara blinks back at her, a picture of wide-eyed innocence. River sighs and ruffles Clara's hair in the weary but also mildly turned on way that characterizes, as far as Clara can tell, River's entire state of being. “Fine,” River says, rolling down the passenger side window.

           The freezing winter air immediately greets them, but the expression of pure gratitude that splits the blonde's face is so warm that Clara barely even notices the snow that is beginning to fleck her eyelashes. “Oh my goodness!” the blonde exclaims, the words practically spilling out of her shiny pink mouth. “Thank you!” She seems to remember herself, and pauses for a moment before asking, “May I have a lift?”

          River opens her mouth to speak, and Clara quickly says “of course”. She nods at the door behind her, and the girl hurries into the car, slamming the door shut before the snow can get in. She brings her hands close to her face and blows on them.

          “Buckled up?” River asks, meeting the blonde's eyes in the rear-view mirror. The blonde smiles bashfully.

          “One sec,” she says, fumbling to buckle her seat belt. She glances back up at the mirror. “Got it.”

          “Right,” River says, putting her foot on the pedal again.

          They drive for several minutes in a silence interrupted only by the purr of the motor and River's quiet humming. Finally, Clara speaks up. She twists around to look at the hitchhiker. “So, you got a name, blondie?”

          The girl looks up at her as if surprised to have been addressed. “Jenny,” she says. “Smith. Jenny Smith.”

          “Nice to meet you, Jenny Smith. I'm Clara Oswald. This is River. I'd offer you a hand, but, well –”

          “Yeah,” Jenny says, laughing. “Nice to meet you, Clara Oswald. Thanks a million for stopping for me. I've been out there for hours, but so few people came along, and none of them willing to stop for a hitchhiker – not that I blame them on principle, but it's _cold_ out there –” Jenny, on the tail end of her breath, inhales deeply. “Sorry,” she says, “am I babbling?”

          “Like a brook,” River says.

          “I do that quite a lot, I'm afraid.”

          “It's cute,” Clara says. She flashes Jenny a smile, and Jenny smiles back, all gleaming white teeth that make Clara's heart flutter a little. “So,” Clara says, “where are you from, Jenny?”

          Jenny is quiet for a moment before responding, with feigned lightness, “nowhere, really.” She brightly switches topics. “How about you two? Where are you from? And are you friends or –?”

          “Lancashire, originally,” Clara says, “though I haven't been back in years.”

          “Gloucestershire,” River says. “Home, sweet home. And Miss Oswald and I –” she lowers her voice with that edge of a growl that stirs between Clara's legs “–well, you might say we're _very_ good friends. With benefits.” River winks at Jenny in the rear-view mirror, and Jenny giggles, a sound like tiny tinkling bells.

          “Where are you headed?” Jenny asks.

          “Anywhere,” Clara says, a bit grandly. “Everywhere. You?”

          “Me, too!”

          They talk for hours about where they've been and where they want to go – “I've got a book,” Clara says, holding up the thick, travel-sized volume she always keeps on her person, “one hundred and one places to see.” Jenny looks at it, wide-eyed, and laughs self-consciously.

          “I haven't got any sort of plan,” she admits, “not beyond the basic ' _I want to travel the world'._ ”

          “That's a perfectly fine plan,” River says. “There's a lot to be said for spontaneity, dear – improvisation. Don't let yourself get tied down to maps and schedules like this one.” She gestures at Clara.

          “Hey!” Clara protests, and River ruffles her hair.

          Eventually, River becomes too exhausted to keep her eyes on the road – “You try driving, if you're so disdainful,” she tells Clara, who can't – and they pull over at a lookout in the middle of nowhere. River makes Clara get into the back with Jenny so that she can sit back in the passenger seat with her feet up on the dashboard and pass out.

          There is silence for a while. Clara waits until the sound of River's breathing has evened and River has begun to snore lightly before she speaks. “Hey.”

          “Hey,” Jenny says. She has unbuckled and sits, now, facing Clara, with her knees pulled up to her chest. Clara shifts in her own seat, pulling her feet up under her and turning slightly to face Jenny. “Thanks again,” Jenny says, “for picking me up.” She chuckles, then admits, “I was afraid I was going to freeze to death out there.”

          “Of course,” Clara says. “I've been in that position myself, once or twice.”

          Jenny shoots her a questioning look.

          “Before I was with River,” Clara says. “Well, not _with_ River. Well, sometimes _with_ her, but not in a committed sort of way, you know?”

          Jenny's eyebrows are knit; her lips are pursed. “I don't think so,” she confesses.

          Clara privately rolls her eyes. “I'm sure you've heard the stories of pretty young hitchhikers getting taken advantage of?” she says lightly. Jenny nods. Her eyes are as wide as saucers, and Clara sees tears threatening to well up in them.

          “Well, I would _never_ take advantage of anyone, right?” Clara says. Her voice is as dead serious as she is. She holds her hands up as if to show she's unarmed. “Ever.”

          “That's good to know,” Jenny manages weakly.

          “But,” Clara frowns, biting her lip – as eloquent and as compassionate as she considers herself, she's always had trouble with the whole 'direct statement of feelings' thing – “I do like you. So if you were ever – _interested_ – in being taken advantage of – or in taking advantage of me, for that matter – I'd be up for it. You get what I'm saying?”

          Jenny's lips curve upward. “I think so,” she says. She gets to her knees, ducking her head to avoid banging it against the roof of the car, and folds back her legs so her position matches Clara's.

         Clara grins wickedly, her heart beats rapidly in her chest. “That a yes?”

          Jenny's smile widens; her eyes glint with mischief. “That's a yes.”

         Clara surges in to kiss her, and they meet in the middle. Jenny is enthusiastic, and more skilled than Clara might have expected – she brings a hand up to run it through Clara's hair, and the other to one of Clara's shoulder blades to keep her close. Clara cups Jenny's waist with one of her own hands; her other traces Jenny's side, from hip to breast and back. Jenny moans softly as the hand on her waist slips to squeeze her ass. Clara pulls her in, sliding back, until Jenny is kneeling in her lap, still kissing her. Clara's fingers slip under the hem of Jenny's shirt, and she pulls away for long enough to ask, breathlessly, “okay?”, and for Jenny to nod vigorously, before they discard of both their shirts. Clara grunts as Jenny slithers back to crouch between her legs, her fingers hooked into the waistband of Clara's jeans.

          “Going a bit fast there, aren't we?” Clara says, raising an eyebrow, though her heart is pounding and there's sweat on her brow and she'd honestly rather nothing more than to let Jenny go to town on her – conspicuously wet – vagina. She's learned her lesson, though, about fucking girls on the first date whom she'd someday like to see again

          Jenny sits back up and laughs. “Never done this before,” she says. “Always wanted to, though. Do you want to go slower?”

          Clara's eyes widen in surprise and she shakes her head. “By all means, go ahead,” she says. “If you need any guidance, I am _something_ of an expert.” She winks, and Jenny laughs and bends forward again to remove Clara's jeans and –

          River turns around. She eyes the whole scene with what the petrified Jenny, Clara notes, probably thinks is anger, but which Clara can tell by the subtlest of body language – the quirk of an eyebrow, the way the grim, thin, line of a mouth turns up ever so slightly at the edge, and, of course, the darkness of the eyes – is an exciting combination of wry amusement and arousal.

          “It's rude to shack up in a woman's car without inviting her to the party,” River says.

          Clara laughs. She puts her own warm hand on top of Jenny's to comfort the still-shocked other woman. “I don't think there's room for three back here, River.”

          River shrugs. “There's a motel a few miles down the road.”

          “Is there really?” Clara exclaims. She looks down at Jenny. “I don't want to impose,” she reassures her., though really, the look in River's eyes combined with the interrupted action with Jenny has her on the edge of coming without even being touched. “If you want it to be just us, River will find a room of her own and leave us to it –" Clara trades a glance with River, who nods “– that's the courtesy we first agreed upon when we started traveling together; _however_ , if you were up for a threesome, that would be novel even for me. Not to imply it would be novel for you –”

          “It would be,” Jenny says. She's sitting up straight again, but her eyes are wide and her pupils dilated. “It's not something I've had as a goal, I must admit, but –” she looks at River “– how far is that motel again?”

          “Like three miles,” River says. “Keep it in your pants until then, girls – Clara knows what I'm capable of –”Clara's heart almost melts at the wink River sends her way “– and Jenny, darling, I promise you are in for a truly enlightening experience.”

          “She's right,” Clara says. “And that's just her. I'm no amateur either, thanks.”

          “Of course not, dear,” River says. She turns to Jenny, fixing her with an affectionate gaze. “What do you say?”

          Jenny laughs. “I'm not sure I could say no,” she admits.

          “Right, then.” River maneuvers over the console and back into the driver's seat. “Buckle up, girls,” she calls back to them, doing up her own seat belt.

          Clara smirks, unable to resist the opportunity for wordplay. She turns to Jenny, shimmying back into her shirt insofar as her belted position allows. “You, my friend, are in for the ride of your life.”


End file.
